


Apotheosis

by squeaklings



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Friendship/Love, Gen, Goodbyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squeaklings/pseuds/squeaklings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the strongest must eventually rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apotheosis

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by, and written to, the song _Apotheosis_ from the game _Journey_. I recommend it as background music (or just to listen to because it's beautiful). 
> 
> Distant sequel to _The Strongest Wishes Take the Longest._

The wish flutters around him lovingly, gossamer wings like golden glitter brushing against his cheeks in one final caress. It’s a beautiful thing, ethereal and haunting, with wings that flow like rivers and a body made of star dust, unseen for millennia; nothing more than an old story.

He’s so tired.

The wish brushes one last feather-light kiss to his forehead and whisks away, trailing light in its wake. He watches it go, eyes half-lidded as he lies back against the darkened, lifeless rock of his island.

Can he sleep now?

Close his eyes for just a moment, let himself rest.

A light wakes him, not at all unexpected. The star child alights beside him, silver-white to his own faded gold, and he smiles and waves as best he can. The story weaver is there as well, a trembling smile on her face and sorrow in her eyes, and they come to sit beside him, each taking one of his hands in theirs and holding it gently. The star child’s light dims and flickers, once, twice.

They sit with him in silence, but the stars above sparkle and sing and they’re so, so bright! He smiles a sleepy smile and pulls his hands away to reach up, to point to the sea of lights above them, but the children grab his hands again, not ready to let him go.

So he asks for a story, and through her tears the weaver nods and smiles softly. She knows a story, an old one, simple and yet beautiful.

_Once upon a time there was a brave little traveler. He sailed across the lands and was friends with the moon and stars and clouds, for you see he only traveled at night, and he was well-loved._

_But one day a great catastrophe struck the land, and the little traveler became lost, thrown far from his home and friends. He landed in a new land, one that shone gold from horizon to horizon; a sea of sand! And it was beautiful, so wonderful, but so lonely for he found no life among the desert._

She begins to glow faintly, the star child as well as he takes her other hand in his, and the song of the stars echoes in her voice. He sighs happily and closes his eyes as he listens, the magic washing over him like a salve.

_He traveled for a long time, always searching for home, never giving up. And one day he stumbled upon a small seed of life in the vast desert! Amazed, he nurtured the small bundle and it grew and grew and grew, until a giant creature of living sand stood before him._

_Together they continued their journey, helping each other. And eventually they found other life as well, small beings that frightened easily in the darkness the traveler had always known. But when he touched them with the living sand, they dreamed of wondrous and beautiful things, and so he searched them out, each and every one, to grant them peaceful dreams._

The others arrive one by one, the warrior-mage and the wizard, the queen and the pooka and the ice child, and slowly a circle begins to form around the weary man. They join their hands with the weaver and the star child, and their magic joins with hers, glowing white and brilliant, and slowly the black rocks begin to crumble to golden sand, glowing and swirling around them, kissing their skin.

_He met others as well, friends to help him bring joy to the little ones. He loved them all, and they him, but he never stopped dreaming of home, of the moon and clouds and stars he once knew._

_And one day, in the distance, just on the horizon, he saw a familiar sight. A glimpse of home! But how could he leave all he’d come to know and love? He belonged to both worlds, and his heart was torn._

_But his companion, the living sand he’d nurtured and brought forth from a tiny seed of life, felt his confusion and hurt. And it loved him so much that slowly, without the traveler realizing, it led him towards that distant sight of home, to the horizon where the sun touched the moon. And only when they reached the threshold between both worlds did the traveler realize what had happened._

The sand begins to coalesce around them, shining so very, very brightly as it gently lifts the weary man into its embrace. He smiles as he feels its touch, and opens his eyes to see the world around him bathed in golden light, the faces of the ones he cares for most full of sadness and tears but so much love.

_Why did you bring me here? the traveler asked his companion, and the sand gently billowed around him, nudging him towards his home._

_Because we love you, and it’s the only gift we could ever give you, the sand answered, and the traveler cried tears of sadness and thanks. We will never forget you, the sand said, and it embraced the traveler one last time before he slowly crossed the threshold, his heart rejoicing as he once more heard the song of his home._

He shines as golden as the sand, vibrant and beautiful as a shooting star as he is lifted from the circle and into the sky. He smiles down at them all, love and sorrow written in every gesture, every glance, and he lifts a small, delicate hand to wave goodbye. 

And then he’s gone in a whirlwind of sand as it streaks across the sky, into the night and the stars and across the face of the moon, his song joining the ones above. 

His companions stay in their circle for a long time, long after the light has faded and night retakes the land, hands clasped tightly. And then, slowly, the sand begins to fall, millions and millions of grains full of memories and wishes and dreams and love. Only when the last grain lands do they stand, still hand in hand, and stare out at the night sky.

Across the world, the light of the shooting star illuminates the land, bright and warm as the sun. And where it touches, it brings forth dreams full of hope and joy and laughter. 

And as it passes, a golden butterfly flaps its wings.


End file.
